Draco Likes
by Lyna Laufeyson
Summary: "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm totally rich and I'm really proud to be pure-blooded white... I mean wizard... hehehe." A crack fic inspired by the Harry Potter Puppet Pals Draco Puppet song.
1. Hamsters

**This is a joke. I personally love Draco, but this needed to happen.**

**\- _Lyna_**

* * *

There's a room in Malfoy Manor that no outsider knows about. It started off as a play room when I was younger, but as I got older, something more important took over. I spend a lot of time in there when I'm not at Hogwarts. I go there when I need to relax, to have some time processing the day. I was on my way there now.

Down the dark corridor I went, passing portrait after portrait; white blonde ancestors watching me with steel grey eyes, no doubt passing some form of judgement. But I didn't care for their opinions, they were dead, what did they matter?

I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors and was met by a wondrous sight. Portraits of the deceased still lined the walls, but these I cared about; Franklin, Maximillian, Fluffykins the second (we don't speak of Fluffykins the first, traitorous bastard).

The warm black eyes of past hamsters watched as I approached the first of several cages. I opened it, and a fluff covered grey head poked out of the sawdust. I smiled as the tiny creature looked up at me, expecting a treat. I smiled again.

Yes, I Draco Malfoy, like hamsters.


	2. Honey

Darkness filled the Slytherin boy's dorm. Vincent, Gregory and Theodore were asleep, Blaise was probably still down in the common room, trying to make sense of some text book. This was exactly how I liked it. Privacy at last.

Grabbing my wand I quickly cast _Muffliato, _lest the others wake up. I did't want them to suspect anything. Casting _Lumos_ I leant over the side of my bed, curtains covering me still. I reached under, pulling out a box of tissues, and then the beloved pot. Sitting back up I gently unscrewed the lid, and without taking a breath I plunged my finger into the cool, sticky paste. I licked my fingers clean with vigour, not caring when it dribbled down my chin. "Draco? You up?" A voice called. Blaise. "I don't get how this spell goes, can you help?" I wanted to say something, tell him to hang on for a second. But my mouth was full. Blaise grabbed the curtain and pulled it back, revealing my shame. I, Draco Malfoy, like honey.


	3. Toothpaste

I hummed in delight as the white substance filled my mouth, by Merlin, I couldn't get enough of this. The cool, addictive taste on my tongue, coating my throat. This was the best. I couldn't swallow it though, as much as I longed to, Pansy said it was bad for your stomach, and if anyone knew it, it would be Pansy.

I spat into the sink, already mourning the loss. I sighed, maybe I could do it again, it wasn't too soon, was it? After all, it's only natural. I sighed again, staring at my reflection in the mirror, messy hair and white staining my lips.

"Hurry up in their Malfoy, surely you've brushed your teeth by now?" Goyle called from the next room. I sighed yet again, staring longingly at my toothbrush. I, Draco Malfoy, _really _like toothpaste.


	4. Money

"Money, Money, Money," I sang to myself, pushing my arm further down the back of the couch. There must be something behind there, crammed beneath cushions. After all Slytherin was the wealthiest house, and simultaneously honoured by the dunces of the world. But not I.

I saw them sat here yesterday, Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode. Now if anyone was to lose a Galleon or two down the back of a chair it would be those three.

"Must be funny," I continued as my search forced me elbow deep into the sofa, "In a rich man's world."

Success!

I pulled my hand out of the seat, deftly gripping onto the smooth golden galleon. I kissed it before slipping it into my pocket.

Yes, I, Draco Malfoy, like Abba... I mean money.


	5. Face Paint

I looked around the corridor, scanning it for my father, before slipping into the bathroom, clutching the black case to my chest. Can't have him catching me again, I don't need another lecture. I'm not too old for this _Dad, _and it's not weird.

Locking the door behind me I placed the case onto the counter. Taking a breath I opened it. Never had I seen anything quite like this. Not even a rainbow could rival my collection, I had blues brighter than the sky, reds richer than blood and yellows that could challenge the sun itself.

Wetting my brush I dipped it into a vibrant fuchsia, drawing the outline of wings around my eyes. Butterflies were majestic creatures, bright, colourful and free, and considering I couldn't physically become a butterfly, drawing one on my face was the only logical conclusion. Tongue sticking out I made sure every swirl was on point, and every detail perfect before cleaning my brush and dipping into the purple.

I didn't hear the faint murmur of _Alohomora_. "Draco not again," Father said upon entering the bathroom, "You're 27," But I didn't care.

Because I, Draco Malfoy, like face paint.


	6. Pliers

Ask anyone. And I mean _anyone_, and they'll tell you that Draco Lucius Malfoy was a manly man. And I am. A manly man, who likes doing manly man things.

Like wrestling a bear or beating up people half my size. A real credit to society. I liked hammering nails into the wall, and screwing screws, and... what the fuck is this? A pair of pliers you say? Well I like plying whatever the fuck you're supposed to ply. I'm a big manly man, who is not scared of anything. In fact people are scared of me.

I like fishing and fighting and everything else manly men like.

And I, Draco Malfoy, especially like pliers.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm going to a spa, get Dobby to do it.


	7. Bowling

"Zabini, this is a Muggle venue, you tricked me!" I turned to face the liar, but he just sniggered. Pansy sighed and Theo looked uncomfortable.

"Relax, it's not like it's going to hurt you," Blaise shook his head.

"I don't know Blaisey-days, I heard that Muggles carry all sorts of diseases," Pansy replied.

"So do wizards Pans, I keep telling you, Chicken Pox are usual," Blaise said.

"You're not expecting me to touch the ball are you?" I asked, "Because that's disgusting,"

"And you have to wear borrowed shoes," Blaise smirked.

"No." I snapped, wrinkling my nose, "I will not do something as poor as borrowing shoes from a Muggle establishment,"

"Dray, relax," Pansy tried to soothe, but no. It was gross; I don't want to get sick from someone else's foot sweat.

"Come on, you promised," Blaise said, and he had me there, I bet him if he could fit 12 marshmallows in his mouth I'd do whatever he wanted for a day.

In my defence I thought he'd chicken out or die trying. Nevertheless here I am.

So just for today, I, Draco Malfoy, like bowling.


	8. Cartwheel

Now I had a secret that no one knew. Not a dirty one, or one that would hurt anyone, but an embarrassing one. I know, a Malfoy, feeling shame, someone call Rita Skeeter.

But no. It was my plan for the future, something I'd been working on since I was little. Mother had encouraged it, Father had frowned, but had held his tongue. I had lessons every week and had once competed at a Muggle event called the Olympics.

To this day I really don't know what all the fuss was about, but the gold medal is a nice paperweight. My coach thinks that I could make a career out of this, joining a circus or something

. I don't know about that, but it's a cool idea, if I don't make Minister by 22, I'll consider it. I don't know what I'd do if anyone found out I was a gymnast, but I can't stop.

No matter how embarrassing, I, Draco Malfoy, like cartwheels.


	9. Fire

It was beautiful. I mean don't get me wrong, Crabbe was an idiot, and he deserved to die, but it was beautiful. The swirls of orange with splashes of yellow and red dancing across the Room of Requirement as it consumed everything.

Including Crabbe's body.

It was unbridled power, furious and alluring. Every innate instinct demanded I run, that I climb up the tower of precariously balanced furniture, but there was a deep longing to touch it. Like a siren the flames sang, sweet and unwavering.

She wanted me as much as I wanted her. Her apricot coloured gaze looked into my soul and I felt no fear. I was ready. I was ready for her and I to become one, to be together for eternity. I was going to do it. I was going to let go, fling myself into the jaws of the unknown, when something grabbed onto me.

Someone pulled me onto a broom, pulling me away from the marigold flames. _No,_ I wanted to scream, but my mouth felt as if it was full of marshmallows.

It was Potter.

Potter. That stuck up, arrogant _Chosen One_, how dare he rip me away from my destiny. That's it he's interfered with my life too many times. I'll get him if it's the last thing I do.

Because even though I, Draco Malfoy, like fire, I fucking hate Harry Potter.


End file.
